[IC] 🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

[Apex Sunburn]

Sjan-dehk & Kalliope

...And feat. Iyen
Time: 6pm
Location: Castle Dining Hall
Interactions: @PapaOso Cassius

As Sjan-dehk approached the grand entrance, the warmth of the banquet hall spilling through the doors, Kalliope’s mind was still clouded by the quiet comfort of being held so securely in his arms. There was a fleeting moment of peace, where she could almost forget the weight of her past, the eyes watching her, and the ever-present specter of Hafiz.

But then, just as they neared the threshold, her gaze flickered to inside the hall where the crowd mingled. Her breath caught and her body stiffened.

Hala Sami.

For a moment, the world around her seemed to freeze, a chill creeping into her veins as the stark contrast of white-blonde hair against sun-kissed skin burned into her memory. The sharp, calculating gaze of her rival, the one who had made Kalliope's life hell on more than one occasion and vice versa, was now within her line of sight. Hala was speaking with Milo St. Clair, their presence enough to send a shiver of dread down her spine.

It took all Kalliope had to keep her composure, but the weight of it hit her in that instant. The last thing she wanted was to make Sjan-dehk a target, to paint a bigger bullseye on him by being carried in so publicly, so visibly. She couldn’t afford to give Hafiz or Hala any more leverage over them.

“Sjan-dehk," she whispered hoarsely, eyes still locked on Hala. "Put me down."

The words were tight, as if speaking them made the reality of their situation more immediate, more real. She hated the feeling of vulnerability it would bring, but she couldn't allow this. Not with Hala so close, ready to potentially exploit any weakness they could find.

Sjan-dehk felt Kalliope tense up and instinctively tucked her in, pressing her closer and tighter to his body. Truth be told, were he not carrying her, he likely would have gotten jittery, himself, from nerves and the tautness of growing apprehension. True, he had guessed that the banquet would be a lavish affair, and true, he had an inkling as to what Caesonian lavishness meant, but still, to see his suspicions confirmed in person was overwhelming, to say the least. Intimidating, even.

It seemed like everyone in the hall had visited a tailor just for this particular event – every article of clothing looked expensive to Sjan-dehk’s eyes. Shimmering fabrics that reflected just enough light to catch the eye, but not so much that they appeared gaudy; cuts and styles that traced the contours of their wearers’ bodies just enough to show off their shapes, but not so much that they seemed provocative; jewels glistening on fingers, around necks, from ears, shining in a veritable riot of colours; everything Sjan-dehk saw spoke of a great deal of pomp and circumstance.

He paused right on the threshold of the grand, impressive doors. A deep sense of un-belonging dug a pit through his guts, as if he were an ungainly, grey whale about to careen into a school of colourful, elegant rainbowfish.

“What was that?” Kalliope’s words were just enough to pull him out of his thoughts, but even so, he failed to catch them. Before she could answer, however, Iyen decided to speak her mind.

“I think we’re underdressed, Sjan-dehk,” she said before letting out a low whistle. “Well, you are, at least.” She glanced sideways at him with a cheeky grin on her lips. “I’m just your ‘guard’, after all. Good luck in there, Captain.”

”Sjan-dehk…” Still too quiet, even Kali barely heard herself that time as she all but squeaked.

“You’re coming in with me,” Sjan-dehk reminded her. “If I’m going to look stupid, I’ll be damned if we don’t look stupid together.”

”Please…” So damn quiet, she thought as she felt panic and irritation rising in her.

Iyen chuckled. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, Sjan-dehk. You can lead the way, though.”

Sjan-dehk rolled his eyes, the brief exchange melting away his earlier nervousness. He drew in a deep breath to calm a few remaining nerves, and took a step forward, passing under the large doors. Then, he took another, and another, until he found his stride. Unfortunately, he wasn’t too clear as to where those strides should take him. “So, where are we going?” He asked Kalliope in a quiet voice, slowing his pace before he ended up in the middle of the hall.

As Sjan-dehk took another step, Kalliope felt her frustration rise, the panic building in her chest. She could hear his and Iyen’s words, but they seemed distant, unimportant. The presence of Iyen, the casualness in her voice, it was all too much for Kali to handle in that moment. That damn woman was distracting him, pulling his attention away from her need. From what Kalliope needed him to focus on.

She couldn’t deal with being the center of attention like this, not with the potential eyes of everyone on her, and not when Hala could see them at any moment. Every movement, every second felt like it was edging them closer to danger. Sjan-dehk didn’t understand the risks, didn’t see the target he was painting on himself. But she knew Hala. Knew how quickly Hafiz’ minion could turn everything to their advantage.

The irritation and panic welled up inside her, like a pressure that threatened to explode.

”Dammit, Sjan-dehk,” she snapped, her voice rising, harsh and tight as her hands clutched at the fabric at his chest desperately. ”Put me down.” The words were laced with annoyance, dread, and something she couldn’t quite put a name to. Maybe it was fear, maybe it was the growing anger at being so vulnerable, so exposed.

Finally, Sjan-dehk heard her. “Oh, sorry!” A flush came over his cheeks, and his words caught in his throat as he blurted them out, a little louder than he had intended. For how long had he been carrying her against her wishes?

Her legs shifted as she began to squirm in his grasp, restless, trying to free themselves from the weight of being carried, to take back control. Her pulse thudded loudly in her ears, her breath shallow as her gaze flickered again to where Hala’s unmistakable figure still lingered. She could almost feel their gaze on her, even from this distance.

Kalliope’s stomach churned. She couldn’t afford to look weak. Not now.

”Put. Me. Down!” She growled, voice rising with each word, as she smacked his chest. Her whole body stiffened before she tried to squirm out of his arms once more, unintentionally drawing the attention of those nearby.

“I’m trying,” Sjan-dehk managed to say through clenched teeth, his brows furrowed as he fought to keep his balance, to gently bring Kalliope to the ground, and to both things without tightening his hold on her and accidentally ripping something he shouldn’t, or worse, hurting her.

It wasn’t easy. Kalliope’s struggling and squirming constantly shifted their weight – each time he thought he had found his footing, she would move, and he would have to quickly catch the both of them before they went sprawling to the floor. It was reminiscent of wrestling with a particularly large and belligerent fish, one that he would rather release, but couldn’t for fear of falling into the water with it. “If you’d just stop moving,” he said through grunts, his patience getting shorter with each word. Why was she making things so difficult for the both of them? “Kali! Can you–”

Then, the inevitable happened.

One moment, Sjan-dehk was on his feet. The next, he felt his boot slide just that little bit too far along the varnished floorboards, and his world turned upside-down. Kalliope’s dress ruffled, his weapons clattered. Acting purely on instinct, he immediately pulled her close to him, a hand on the back of her head, cradling it protectively whilst pressing her face into his shoulder, while the other looped securely around her waist. He twisted himself, using his legs to control their fall so that he would be the one to bear the brunt of the impact on his back.

They, or rather, he struck the floor with a loud thud, loud enough to mask the pained groan that rumbled up his throat and slipped past his lips. For a moment, his vision was blank, and when it finally cleared, he found himself staring up at the ceiling, and in front of it, Iyen’s grinning face.

“So…What was that about looking stupid?” A giggle followed her words.

Sjan-dehk ignored her. His first concern was the woman in his arms. Grunting, he pulled himself up to a sitting position and made enough space between the two of them for him to have a good look at her. “You okay, Kali?” He asked, one hand on her arm, but the other still wrapped around her waist and keeping her close. That didn’t concern him – he was far too busy running his eyes over her, checking for any bruises or scratches. Neither did it seem to concern him that they had landed in a rather awkward position, with her almost straddling his lap, her dress pooling around them, and he sitting under her.

Kalliope’s breath hitched as she lay against him, heart racing. The fall had jolted her, but it was the way he’d twisted to shield her, how his arm still held her close, that truly stunned her.

When Sjan-dehk pulled them upright, she looked at him…and instantly wished she hadn’t. His face was so close. His voice, gentle and low, stirred something inside her she wasn’t prepared to feel.

And then she noticed their position.

Her thigh was pressed flush against his hip, bare up to her hip from the leg slit in her dress design. The contact made her hyper-aware of everything—how warm he was, how firm his hold was, how her skirts had pooled in a way that left little to the imagination. Her chest brushed his with every shallow breath, and the concern in his eyes only made her pulse thrum louder in her ears.

The sound of her name nearly undid her. She froze, caught in his gaze, something raw flickering behind her eyes. Desire?

Then she shut it down.

"I’m fine,” she snapped automatically, though her voice cracked at the end. Her cheeks flushed deeper, not from pain, but from embarrassment, and maybe something else, too. “You should’ve just put me down when I asked the first time,” she added, her tone sharp but the edge slightly dulled by the way she still hadn't moved.

“Right,” Sjan-dehk replied in a sheepish murmur. He swallowed his embarrassment, but couldn’t look away from her. It was just like so many times before – his world seemed to focus wholly on her, and her alone. His heart thumped a little faster, a little louder in his chest. Was that a flicker of…Something, of some raw emotion, he saw in her eye?

Then, he heard the mutterings around them, and the spell was broken. With a slight shake of his head, Sjan-dehk started to pull himself away from her.

With a low growl of frustration, she shoved at his chest—not with real force, more like a jolt to break the moment—and pushed herself off his lap with all the grace of a drunken cat scrambling off a windowsill. She wobbled a little as she stood, brushing her hands down the front of her dress like it was the fabric’s fault she’d just made a scene.

“Now everyone’s staring,” she muttered bitterly under her breath, refusing to meet his eyes.

Well, let them stare. Those words stayed in Sjan-dehk’s head. He had a feeling that saying them aloud right now wouldn’t do anyone any favours, least of all for Kalliope and himself.

But even with her back to him, she couldn’t stop the whisper of guilt creeping in around her edges. “Come on, we need to greet the King and Queen.”

“Right, we ah, we should.” His words came out awkwardly, and a strange sting stabbed him right in the heart. A very strange sting, and it stayed with him, lingering in his chest and in the back of his mind as he followed Kalliope. Bullets, swords, splinters, spears; he had faced more weapons than he could name, and had likely suffered injuries from just as many. They had all hurt like the abyss, to be sure, but somehow Kalliope’s words, her tone had managed to cut him deeper than anything else.

Iyen placed a hand on his shoulder, leaning around his arm to look at him. “That was one way to introduce yourselves,” she quipped.

“Shut up, Iyen,” Sjan-dehk grumbled, shrugging her hand away. The Sudhrayarn tittered, twirling her way around to his other side and keeping pace with him.

“Oh, don’t worry, Sjan-dehk,” she said in her melodic, sing-song voice. With a casual, somewhat dismissive wave, she gestured to everyone else in the hall. “Look at the likes of these people. I’ll bet my left arm that they’ll have something new to gossip by the time the feast’s over. Nothing to worry about at all, Sjan-dehk.”

Sjan-dehk let out a long, quiet sigh, and nodded. “I won’t argue with that,” he said, then gave his head a slight shake. He couldn’t forget that he had a reason to be here; he had things to do, and things that needed his focus. Picking up his pace, he caught up with Kalliope and walked at her side, his eyes looking the other way. “We’ll follow your lead,” he said, trying his best to sound as normal as he could.

His mind, however, was anything but normal. A confused mess of emotions flooded up from his heart to his head, then back down into his stomach. He glanced sideways at Kalliope. How was it that she could undo him so? He knew he wanted to help her, to protect her. That part wasn’t in question. But still he wondered just what exactly it was that spurred such feelings in him.

Kalliope kept her eyes forward, posture taut, though her thoughts were anything but composed. She could still feel the warmth of his body against hers, the strength in the arms that had cradled her through the fall. The memory of her thigh pressed to his hip, his chest beneath her palms…it wouldn’t leave her. Every time she tried to shove the image away, it clawed back up, vivid and heated.

It irritated her more than she cared to admit.

She noticed the name cards as they approached the high table. Their seats, right smack in the middle of everyone, were side by side. Of course they were. Without looking at him, she murmured under her breath, “We’re seated together.”

And then, with only a brief pause to gather herself, she stepped forward and sank into a graceful, practiced curtsy before the King and Queen.

“Your Majesties,” she said smoothly, voice carrying just the right note of reverence, “your hospitality is as grand as your reign. May tonight be as harmonious as the empire you govern.” The words tasted acrid on her tongue, but she ignored it. She could scrub her mouth out later.

Only after rising did she allow herself a fleeting glance toward Sjan-dehk, but she said nothing more as she waited for him and Iyen to make their greetings, face unreadable, save for the faintest flush still clinging to her cheeks.

Sjan-dehk waited until Kalliope finished her greeting before stepping forward. Collecting himself, he adjusted his bearings, pulled his shoulders back, held his head up, and tried his best to push aside thoughts of the red-haired woman beside him still teasing at his mind. That last one was a task easier said than done – memories of her warmth, of her closeness, was still as fresh on his skin as it was in his head. He could still feel her softness on his palms, feel her slender frame on his body, her legs–

Stop it. He gave his head a little shake, pushed his leg back, and dropped to a knee.

“Wasun Sjan-dehk of Jafi, of Viserjanta greets you, your ah…Your majesties,” he greeted, voice as solemn as he could manage. He held his hands up in front of his face, his palms layered over each other and facing him, thumbs interlocked. His gaze was averted from the King and Queen, and was instead aimed towards the floor by their feet, as was polite.

For a moment, he considered using this opportunity to ask the King for an audience, or to simply tell him about the dire situation along his Kingdom’s coastlines. But Sjan-dehk soon decided that it was a terrible idea. No King, or any person, for that matter, would appreciate having a serious matter brought to them so early into a celebratory event. Better to let the King enjoy some of his banquet first. Sjan-dehk could always find another chance to approach him.

“Rasehnyas Iyen Jodhesi, of Sudhrayar, of Viserjanta greets you, your mej– Your majesties.” He heard Iyen offer her greetings beside him. She knelt in a fashion identical to his, her head turned just enough to sneak him a glance that urged him to keep going.

“We wish long peace and great harmony to your lands,” Sjan-dehk finished.

He waited until he received a response from either the King or Queen before slowly, deliberately standing back up. “So where do we go now?” He asked.

Kalliope gave a curt nod and stepped toward the table, her voice barely above a whisper. “Come on. This way.”

She led the way, eyes scanning the room, and then she saw him.

Hafiz.

Sitting not far off, and she could swear he was watching. Her stomach dropped. The sounds of the banquet dulled, drowned beneath the echo of his voice, the feel of his hands and body against her, the way he’d broken her in the hallway not long ago.

Her vision narrowed. Breath caught.

She faltered.

Without thinking, her hand reached out and gripped Sjan-dehk’s arm. Grasping onto her anchor. The contact steadied her, kept her upright when her knees wanted to buckle.

She held it for a beat too long before realizing what she'd done. Her hand dropped.
“Sorry,” she muttered tightly as she felt her cheeks heat slightly. “I’m fine.”

She wasn’t. But she moved anyway as her gaze shifted, locking onto Cassius. He stood abruptly, his stance rigid, something off about the way he carried himself. Concern lanced through her. Something was wrong, and she couldn’t ignore it. She had a brief flash to her altercation with Hafiz crossed her mind and this felt similar. She had a feeling he needed someone just like she had.

When they reached their seats, Kalliope hesitated. She turned to Sjan-dehk and Iyen, her voice firm. “Give me a moment. I’m going to check on Cassius.”

Cassius. That was a familiar name. Sjan-dehk still remembered meeting him at the beach only a few days ago. He also remembered seeing him with Kalliope. For a moment, a sour pang tickled his heart, before it was quickly replaced by a strange, wistful, almost regretful feeling. Sjan-dehk didn’t quite know what it was, only that it seemed to hollow him out entirely.

He shook his head slightly. He was being foolish, again. Cassius was Kalliope’s lover; that much had been clear to him since the day at the beach. It was perfectly reasonable for her to go to his aid. What wasn’t reasonable was for Sjan-dehk to be feeling what he did.

“Alright,” he said, remaining standing. Something about the looks of that altercation told him that it was maybe one wrong word, one wrong move away from getting out of hand. “The two of us’ll keep standing a little while longer. Give us a shout or a look if you need help.”

She moved swiftly, her steps quickening as she neared him. That was when she saw Hala approaching, and for a split second, Kalliope paused, considering the person she wanted to avoid. But Hala wasn’t her concern right now, Cassius was.

As she neared, Milo St. Claire’s voice cut through the air, and she saw the tension between him and Cassius. Without sparing Milo a second glance, Kalliope pushed forward. Cassius needed an anchor, a friend. He wouldn't let him face whatever this was alone.

“Cassius,” she called out, voice calm and sweet. “Is everything alright?” A simple question, but her look said it all. I'm here, I've got you. You're not alone. She gently touched his arm, knowing it could be dangerous to do so as if touching a cornered animal, but she was ready to take whatever repercussions it came with.

[PapaOso]

---

Time: Evening
Location: Damien Estate / Banquet Hall
Mentions / Interactions: @princess Lottie, @Tae Kalliope, @JJ Doe Hala

---

Milo remained pinned, spine against stone, utterly calm in a way that only made the fire behind Cassius’s eyes burn hotter.

“How do you know that name?” Cassius growled low, his voice just above a whisper, but sharp enough to cut through most men’s defenses. “And don’t play stupid again. I’ve killed men for less than dropping those words.”

Milo’s smile didn’t falter. He tilted his head slightly, his hazel eyes gleaming with interest rather than fear.

“I have my ways, bastard. But don’t worry, I can tell you’re not defined by it,” he said softly. “But gods, it does make for a fascinating footnote in your life, doesn’t it?”

Cassius stepped in closer, their faces inches apart now, his hand still gripping Milo’s collar tight enough to wrinkle the fine fabric.

“You think this is a fucking joke?”

“No,” Milo said, smile softening...not disappearing, just shifting into something more honest. “I think it’s a tragedy. And like all the best ones, you’ve rewritten the ending so many times you’ve forgotten which version is true.”

The muscles tightened in Cassius’s jaw. His breath was uneven. He wanted to throw a punch just to end the conversation...but something in him held back.

Then, a presence entered the edge of their periphery. Hala.

They approached with an unmistakable air of deliberate elegance, attention fixed squarely on Milo. But neither man moved. Neither man spoke. For a moment, it was like Hala wasn’t even there.

Milo didn’t break eye contact. Cassius’s grip didn’t loosen.

And then...

“Cassius.”

Her voice, soft and careful, sliced through the tension.

Cassius’s gaze twitched, just slightly, toward the sound of Kalliope’s voice.

Her fingers touched his arm...gentle, but brave. The kind of touch you gave a cornered wolf, trusting it wouldn’t bite. Cassius didn’t look at her right away. Not fully, but he did lean into Kalliope’s touch ever so slightly. It was a comfort in an otherwise completely tense moment.

He leaned into Milo just slightly more as well, voice dropping into that low, dangerous whisper, half threat, half promise.

“You’re lucky we’re drawing a crowd.” His lips barely moved. “Guess we’ll just have to continue this later.”

Milo’s smile widened ever so slightly, like he’d just been handed a gift. He looked over to Kalliope with a quick wink, and then turned back to Cassius with the full expression of the man who had come to be known as “Mr. Sunshine”.

“Oh, how I look forward to our next… little... chat.”

Cassius released him with a shove that was just rough enough to send his back against the pillar with a thud, but not enough to escalate or draw additional eyes their way. He turned, shoulders still tight with the remnants of fury, and moved with Kalliope like a storm rerouted. His eyes shifted to Charlotte once more as he walked, even in this moment where the air could be cut with a knife, his gaze craved hers.

As they moved further away, Cassius finally addressed her Kali's gesture, her words, and even more importantly that look. Before he spoke, he forced himself to take a long, deep breath.

"I'd be halfway to the dungeon by now if you hadn't of stepped in..." His words carried a hint of forced sarcasm, but there wasn't a single thing about them untrue. "I would have gutted that fucker, right there, in front of everyone.". Running a hand through his hair, Cas took another deep breath before meeting Kalliope's gaze fully. "So thank you, Kali...I owe you one."

Milo took a moment to breathe in the stillness that followed. He smoothed out his coat with one slow sweep of his palm, adjusted the hem of his sleeve, and flicked a speck of dust from his lapel. Then he reached up, carefully straightening his tie. Only then did he finally turn toward the other presence beside him.

His smile remained, easy and curious as he answered Hala's question.

“Hmm…Am I an artist who creates with my own hands,” Milo repeated softly, “or…do I direct others to make my vision a reality?”

He regarded Hala with a slow blink, as if nothing had happened at all.

“Why not both?”

[samreaper]

Kazumin Nagasa

Time: Evening
Location: Castle Dining Room
Interactions: @potter Lady Olivia/Percy, @jj doe Fritz, @funnyguy Lorenzo, @helo Leo
Mentions: @princess Charlotte/Anastasia/Edin , @Rodiak Zarai, @Tae Thea, Torvi, kalliope, @Apex Sunburn Sjan-dehk, Asteroth,

---

Kazumin had his sights only on the decadent feast before him, his stomach rumbling angrily with a hunger that could rival a hibernating bear. Even as gloved hands moved without haste or wasted effort—a good quick rolling slathering of corn cob held in the left hand. A playful wiggling grab of the gravy bowl off the cart gave a heaped pouring over the buttery rich mashed potatoes then with a gentle tap of the bowl had seemingly reached for a fork; instead took hold of a knife and a sharp precise cut of chicken drum stick. With a merry hum, Kazu dipped the drumstick in the mashed potatoes swimming in gravy and took a meaty chomp as he dipped the corn cob following and alternated between hands.

* Aww fuck..*sniff* so damn good. After all crap this past couple of days, I want to forget my problems tonight and just fucking eat till my stomach bursts with my pals. * Sniffled the candy-suit-dressed blonde who felt like he was a kid let loose in a grand candy shop; a mountainous feast the ball paled in comparison.

His hands flew at dishes one after the other where they were quickly scarfed or swallowed down, mindful not to eat too messily as he made sure to take brief pauses to do rapid small cleaning dabs from the napkin bib tucked at the collar of his shirt not wishing to stain the suit of his dreams and now living out the dream of partaking in this kingly feast normally of impossible reach for the two imposter noble pretenders.

As he was reaching for the next drumstick the sounds of approaching footsteps and a voice speaking up nearby turned his attention to see Duke Lorenzo.

Naturally, his eyes shifted to Kazumin next. “That suit… I don't care what anyone thinks or says… That gets my stamp of approval.”

Kazu had a momentary wide panicked look in his eyes but then swung into action, putting Lady Agatha’s training instilled through countless cruel repetitions. In one quick continuously flowing motion, the blonde dabbed his mouth clean, took a moderate sip of water with two swishes then a gulp. A flap of a fresh napkin was used to rapidly wipe the gloved fingers clean then a playful toss letting the used napkin waft down onto a used plate as the now cleaned left hand lightly gripped the hem of his colorful hat.
“ Ah, you’re far too kind, especially coming from you Lord Duke!” Exclaimed delightedly with a fond greeting raised and a respectful bow of the head. A scrunching flex of the right hand intending to offer a handshake but caught himself as one of Lorenzo’s caliber who didn’t initiate and thought against it. Opting to settle for a bright grin; brimming at receiving compliments from Charlotte’s step-father, whom he so far had demonstrated somewhat poorly up until this point to the man he respected.” By the way, your poem…*pats his chest* hit me deep in the heart and made me weep. And now it weeps with joy, my thanks. ” Another light bow, appreciative wanting to show he meant every word.

Then he turned his attention to Charlotte’s absent seat.” A shame we seemed to have missed Lady Charlotte..” Lifting his gaze to peer ahead glimpsed the next table over to spot Char chatting with Lady Thea, gorgeous in that sun-orange dress. It was difficult to not notice the more risque ways the ladies were dressed but then he caught sight of the hair clip.

* Hm, a gift, maybe?” A pondering scratch of his chin, something he could use as an excuse to talk with Char when possible as there was a lot he needed to discuss, but that would have to wait. Noticing Leo nearby looking snappy in that vibrant emerald green suit, the embroidered gold design a nice touch. Seeing the look of disgust on the man’s face and waved back all friendly and mouthed.” Cool suit.” Thumbed up to the ever-looking sourpuss.

Olivia smiled and looked at him. ”Why yes, this is a grand feast. So nicely created by our esteemed ruler,”

Her statement caught his attention as he could sense the sarcasm underlying her words prompting him to seek out the king who just got done with his squealing prideful boasting of his piggy glee at the night’s gathering and festivities while digging into that neverending pile of ham and dishes.*Might as well all be pigslop to the man..but damn can he put it away.* A shaking whistle out of disgusted awe.” Gotta to admit though, he has the appetite of a god befitting this grand feast. Let’s just hope it's only food.” An unsettling cringe briefly recalling the meeting…wondering why the man smelled of milk or why it left his stomach feeling ill.

Shaking his head wanting to rid himself of the unpleasant image before he lost his appetite and let his gaze wander for a bit to take in other folks he should try and visit. Like Princess Anastasia who he found near the king and queen, in her corner surrounded by a seemingly fun group and chuckle.* Looks like she’s already getting the real party started over there, got to check how she’s doing soon.* A quick drum of his fingers, eyebrows crinkling with concern, the lingering sadness of her song still a faint hum in his ears.

Dismissing the thought with a sigh while pulling his attention from the king’s table to the table across again, scanning for familiar faces when he spotted Zarai.* Hey hey! Zarai, heard she’s had it rough being in a wheelchair and people giving her looks…* A slight frown as he observed her chat with who seemed to be that fierce woman with that Wolf he still hoped to pet. After a bit it seemed they were getting their flirt on at that.* Good to see Zarai in good spirits. If I find the bastard that roughed her up like that I’ll cane their legs till they share her pain.* A mental promise made with an angry punch of his leg causing a jolting pain from his knee doing so.* Gah! Bad aim..oww….Gotta try to chat with her too…might get to befriend the badass hunter chick and that wolf too.” Already excited at the inkling thoughts causing some mischief with the wolf.* Hm…does the big wolf play fetch?* A question to ask if possible.

”Thank you, sir Kazumin. You look lovely as well,” She blushed at the sunflowers and laughed gently.

His head snapped back over, grinning widely.” You think so? I admit I worried, it might be a tad too..much, but I wanted this suit to be special..to be me.” A cheeky raised brow at the blush.” And thank you as well, Lady Olivia. I thought to get sunflowers on the ride back, but a certain grumpy baron prattling about time this and stop throwing suits that.” An annoyed wave handing while peeking over his shoulder behind him to see Lord Asteroth struggling to maintain his composure, but glimpsing Kazu’s shameless eating antics left the displeased man exasperated.

An eye-rolling shoulder shrug as he shifted to lean forward against the table, turning back to Olivia, his eyes drifting back to the Amulet draping her neck.

”Oh no, it was Charlotte’s. She was kind enough to let me borrow it. How sweet is she?”

A curious tilt of the head followed by a guilty pang taking notice of how stressed and tensed she was, his near slips certainly not happening and this wasn’t the first.” Really? Well dang, Char continues being the sweetest lady around. Should find a way to repay her and the Damiens for their kindness.” Lightly tapping his right index finger trying to think up an idea.

However, he would see Olivia’s tense state getting worse as the crowd continued to build from still-arriving guests. Eyebrows furrowing with worry when he glimpsed the amulet again then thought back to the hairclips and the idea hit him, one that could double as a gift and match for the group.* Char, you brilliant butterfly you! Got just the thing to make this detective group official, still need a name too.*

He knew this probably wasn’t the time to be wasting on such things, but with how tense and difficult things had been, and hated seeing Percy unable to enjoy herself when surrounded by such succulent plentiful food and understood why better than most.

For as wonderful as this feast was with the freedom to eat their fill, the memory of the less fortunate and poor was out there left fending for themselves. Sensing his own mood beginning to sour from dwelling on things he couldn’t change or do anything about, much like his panicking friend beside him.

After some pondering, Kazu grabbed a fresh napkin and then rummaged through his clothes.” Shit..does anyone have a pen? Ah-..screw it never mind.” A dismissive push of both hands not wanting to bother fussing about that and dipped his finger in the gravy bowl. Without explaining or another word, he took a good look at the amulet’s design then hummed as he scribbled and scrawled a gravy-drawn amulet, roughly done and shaky lines, the butterfly almost looking like a bowtie.* Not my best work, but can’t go taking a gravy print of Charlotte’s jewelry.* A studying hm as he used another napkin to wipe the gravy from his hand and turned intending to share his little handiwork.

”All this food, and people are staring back home,” Her voice was hardly audible above the noise. ”It’s insane.” Olivia shook her head and continued eating and took more food, though guilt filled her inside.

His smile faltered, uncertain how to respond without worsening the mood, his own constantly juggled as well, but tonight sought for them to have at least one fun night and whispered in turn. ” Insane..with selfish blind greed obscuring it.” Pausing as he took in the countless sinful extravagance and noble folks shamelessly relishing in this sloven den of kingly showboating.” As much as I’d love to see you blast King Piggy while I carted up the food, we wouldn’t get a step before..” Shaking the unsettling image away with a gulp not wishing to continue them.” Best to get our mind off things we can’t help. You’ve been doing a lot of running…tonight try to enjoy yourself…ok?” Said with a soft comforting smile wishing he could do more.

Then, her voice rose to a reasonable level. ”How are you doing tonight, Sir Kazumin?”

A huff of relief escaped his lips at a change of topic.” I’m doing quite dashingly. Got my fanciful candy suit, got all the food to eat, and a dazzling sunflower for company. I hope this evening can be plenty enjoyable for you as well, Lady Olivia!” A clasping clap of the hands rubbed together, the bright grin returning to his face.” Course, the only thing that’d make this better is sharing this feast with the gang. Like Char and-”

Just then another familiar face approached, addressing Duke Lorenzo and then Olivia.* Speak of the sneaky birdy now. Scary timing, but I ain’t gonna complain.*

For Mr. Kazumin, a forthright handshake completed the circuit of greetings. “Master Nagasa. How are your injuries?” Leaning in closer, he lowered his voice to add, .“Did the audience with His Highness prove fruitful?”

Taking hold of his hand with a firm, strong grip giving an appreciative nod followed by another slightly more bone-creaking grip upon Fritz leaning closer to share a word just for between them.” Why thank you, Sir Fritz. I will admit they still sting a tad..” A knowing smirk as his face tingled, the blow almost fresh still, and longed to *thank* his friend for the kindness. Then he asked about the meeting with King Edin having him chuckle with a nervous shrug.” Well..considering I’m sitting here with my head still attached and eating this apple.” Grabbing and munching a bite of apple both to be more poignant and to help settle his nerves.” Guess you could say it's been very fruitful. Basketful worth I’d say-”

At that moment the sound of a heavy thump of something or someone falling disrupted the flow of things. The muttering crowd made it hard to miss the duo that seemed to have fallen somehow.” Oof…ouch. That’s an unfortunate spill. Think they’re alright?” Craning his neck to try to get a better look but the crowd blocked the view too much so put it from his mind for now.

Releasing his grip on Fritz's hand and leaned back against the table where he felt the crinkle of his napkin drawing.” Ooh! That’s right. Since I got ya here Fritz, and you too Lady Olivia. Here..” A whistling unfolding and smoothing to better present it to them.” How’s this for the group’s symbol? A firebutterfly..ah! Can call ourselves the fireflies!” Glancing over at Percy who inspired the fire and Charlotte the butterfly made it perfect in his eyes.

“ What ya guys think? The fireflies seeking to burn the truth out?” Giggling giddily with plans to gather up some pieces of wood for later, eager to put his whittling skills to use.